


Christmas at the Cabin

by RoseDeVents



Series: Holidays with the Wards [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Grant Ward Feels, Grant Ward Redemption, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseDeVents/pseuds/RoseDeVents
Summary: Grant takes Jemma on a surprise trip for the holidays. But that’s not the only surprise in store.The first two chapters are shameless fluff and the third is shameless smut!
Relationships: Jemma Simmons/Grant Ward
Series: Holidays with the Wards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2156856
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of churned this one out getting excited about Christmas this week. The first two chapters will be shameless fluff and the third will be shameless smut. I might have to up the rating on this once I post chapter 3.

“It’s cold.”

“I’m working on it.”

“It wasn’t a criticism, just an observation …”

“I know all your tells now,” Grant says, raising his eyebrows as if to chastise his girlfriend for trying to lie to him.

Jemma’s never been good at it, and after two years he doesn’t even have to look at her to hear it in her voice. She’s annoyed and he can’t blame her. He knows she hates surprises and yet he surprised her with this Christmas getaway to a cabin in the middle of nowhere. But he’ll get her to come around, eventually.

“You can’t read my mind, Grant,” Jemma argues. “You don’t always know what I’m thinking.”

She stalks off to the kitchen and he puts two and two together: she’s not only cold, she’s getting hangry. He smiles to himself and turns back to the fireplace. Once he gets a fire going, the cabin will warm right up. Soon they won’t need it with the generator jumpstarting the HVAC. But he’s not going to sit around listening to Jemma’s teeth chatter while they wait for it to get above freezing.

“Want one?” Jemma asks, handing him one of the chocolate biscuits he had to scour three stores to find for her. He opens his mouth and she feeds it to him with a warm smile.

“Mmmm,” he says with his mouth full of sugary goodness.

“Where did you find these?” Her mood has perked up and he realizes his whole body has relaxed.

He finishes chewing before replying darkly, “if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

She rolls her eyes at him and watches as he sets a spark alight. Soon, there’s a roaring fire and it’s giving off heat. Jemma gets down on the floor next to him and warms her hands.

“Good job,” she says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“I’m sorry it’s so cold in here,” he says. “I should have thought about that. I should have come yesterday to set up.”

“It’s fine, love, really,” she says, pulling off her mittens to feel the warmth on her bare skin. “It _was_ just an observation.”

He gives her a look and she gives him one right back.

“Don’t you want to ask me what I was observing?” she asks playfully.

He sighs. “OK, I’ll bite. If you weren’t annoyed about it being cold in here, what were you thinking about?”

She puts her hand on his cheek and leans in closer. “I was thinking about all the ways we could warm up.”

She’s bested him yet again. Just when he thinks he has her figured out – just when he thinks she’s going to do the nagging girlfriend thing – she does the Jemma Simmons thing instead. As if he didn’t already know she makes the best out of every shitty situation they’ve ever been in. God, he just loves her so fucking much.

He fills the space between them in an instant and his lips meet hers in a hungry kiss, tasting the sweet residue of chocolate biscuits. They’re wearing so many clothes: hats, SHIELD-grade parkas, long underwear, snow pants and bulky boots. It’s the opposite of sexy and when he unzips her jacket, she shivers in his arms and he stops. He zips her back up and they laugh.

“Maybe it’s too cold for that still?” she suggests, disappointed, keeping her bared hands in his jacket pockets for warmth.

“Yeah, definitely should have set up yesterday,” he grumbles. “You hungry?”

“Starved,” she smiles, looking toward the grocery bags and coolers in the kitchen. “But I see you brought enough food for a month. How long are we staying?” 

He bites his lip. “Three days,” he says guiltily. “Maybe four, if nothing goes wrong back at HQ.”

“Which it will,” she commiserates.

“Hey, I know for a fact that HYDRA takes off for Christmas, too,” he says, trying to restore hope for a longer holiday.

“Oh, is that why you brought me here of all places?” she asks. She’s giving him a knowing look and he starts to wonder how much of his surprise is still intact.

“How did you know?”

“The flight time. And I didn’t have to be a genius to know we flew west. But why here, Grant? Of all places?” She looks concerned for him, clearly wondering why he’d return to the site of his prolonged torture.

“I wanted to show you,” he answers simply.

She smiles warmly at him. “You wanted to share it with me.” She looks around at the four walls of the small cabin and nods in approval. “I can’t believe you built this.”

The act itself boils down to one sentence: He built this cabin. But it hides the blood, sweat and tears that went into it. He barely survived his first winter in the Wyoming wilderness. John Garrett dropped him off one day and didn’t come back. Grant was desperate, all the time. He stole all he could, and then John came back and destroyed his things. Grant became almost feral after that.

Until he finished the cabin. It restored some normalcy to his situation and gave him shelter, fulfilling his most basic human need. It became his home, and after all these years there’s never been anywhere to replace it. Unless you count Jemma, and he can always count on Jemma.

“I can’t believe it’s still standing,” he jokes, hiding his dark nostalgia.

“At what point did you modernize it?” she asks, pointing to the kitchenette and duct work.

“Last year,” he says. “After …”

“You came _here_?” she asks, surprised.

“Yeah,” he feels almost guilty admitting it. He never told anyone where he went for those weeks after John died. The man turned out to be a monster, but he’d started out as Grant’s savior. Updating the cabin was a way for him to grieve without judgment. And he hadn’t been back, until now.

He realizes it was pretty stupid not to check the place out before he brought Jemma, but he’d only had a couple of days to prepare. Coulson was reluctant to approve their leave for the holidays and agree to loaning him a quinjet. Until Grant told him why. Grant wanted to take her someplace special to show her how much he cares about her. She’s always giving of herself, and he’s been slowly taking down his walls so he can give back.

“I wanted to tell you about that,” he offers, still seeing the concerned look on her face. “And other things. I don’t want any secrets between us.”

Her whole face registers shock before she shakes her head and smiles again. “Oh, Grant,” she says, throwing her arms around him. “That’s the most lovely thing a spy could say.”

He lets out a deep belly laugh as he holds her as close as he can with their puffy parkas in the way. “Is it?” he asks. He releases her and fumbles with his zipper, pulling a small box out of an inside pocket.

He wanted to do this later. After all, they’re still kneeling on the floor, huddled in front of the fire under layers of clothing. She should be standing, and he should be on one knee. Perhaps it would be better after dinner. Or maybe tomorrow, on that hill he liked to climb to see the view over the river. But the moment feels right and he doesn’t want to wait a second longer.

She looks at the box with her most hopeful, earnest expression and he’s so damn glad he can read her or he wouldn’t be able to ask her the question that’s on the tip of his tongue.

“Jemma,” he starts. “You are the light of my life. All the good things come from you. If I hadn’t fallen for you on the Bus – and literally, off the Bus – I don’t know where I’d be now.” She starts to cry and it would break his heart to see her tears if it wasn’t already bursting with love for her.

“I always want to be by your side. Not just to protect you like it started, but so I can laugh with you … wipe away your tears.” She laughs as he uses his thumb to do just that.

“I love you so much.” He forgets everything else he wanted to say and pops open the box to show her the ring. “Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes,” she says quickly, her eyes bursting with tears again. “Yes, Grant!” She throws herself into his arms again and ardently kisses every uncovered part of him that she can reach: the back of his neck, below his ear, his cheek, his forehead, his other cheek, his chin and finally his lips.

He insists on sliding the ring onto her finger immediately, which she does not object to for one second. They both stare down at her left hand with the shiny diamond on it.

“I love you, too” she says, only now able to speak without crying. “And I think right now, we really are the happiest people in the world.”

He beams at her: his fiancée. He can’t wait to say the word out loud, so he does.

“So fiancée, how about some champagne?”

“Why thank you, fiancé, that would be wonderful!” she says, grinning back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Jemma and Grant are still mesmerized by the ring. They’re on their backs in bed, heads propped up on pillows, warm from the uninterrupted hours they’ve spent in each other’s arms. Jemma’s holding her left hand up so they can stare at it. Marvel at it. Until she drops her hand in frustration.

“How am I supposed to top this?” she asks him pointedly.

He glances at her hand, then looks her in the eye, completely lost. “What do you mean?” He’s wondering if it’s one of her many Britishisms he doesn’t understand.

“I mean, really, this is the greatest Christmas gift of all time. Prepare yourself for a lifetime of disappointment because there’s nothing I could ever give you that’s as wonderful as this.”

He laughs at her and she pouts at him. “Baby, you’re overlooking that it was _you_ who gave _me_ the greatest gift of all time.”

Now it’s her turn to be confused. He laughs again before looking at her very seriously. “You said ‘ _yes_.’”

There’s a sort of proud look in her eye as he pulls her in for yet another kiss. Their lips are still swollen from last night but that only makes her more kissable in his mind. They’re interrupted by their stomachs growling; they hadn’t had a chance to make dinner and it is well past breakfast time.

“Food,” she mumbles against his mouth.

“I’ll get it, stay here,” he says, stealing two more kisses before pushing himself out of bed.

He throws bread, cheese and fruit on a tray and brings it back to her. They feast on it while they make plans for the next two days of their holiday.

“Oh, I forgot! I have another surprise,” he says with a grin.

“I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises,” she laughs.

He goes through the tubs of supplies he brought with them until he finds the right one. He plops it on the edge of the bed while Jemma looks on curiously. He pulls out garland, strings of lights and ornaments.

Jemma claps her hands in utter delight. “You brought decorations!”

“Of course, it’s Christmas!” he says like he’s one of Santa’s elves instead of the scrooge he was last year. She gives him a look and he shrugs. “You might have rubbed off on me a little.”

“Oh this is perfect, Grant. Really.” She gets out of bed so she can inspect the contents of the box more thoroughly, but not before getting on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Not quite, but once we get a tree, it will be.”

“A tree?” she asks. “Where are we going to get one of those?” Grant smiles and points out the window.

Thirty minutes later, after much hemming and hawing over whether they actually wanted to put on clothes, they’re trudging through the snow hand in hand.

“What about that one?” Grant asks, pointing to a magnificent blue spruce.

Jemma laughs out loud. “That’s way too big!”

“You think?” he asks, sizing it up. “Oh, yeah, I guess so.”

“We should get one of those Charlie Brown-type ones. Rescue it from the cold.”

“Charlie Brown?”

Jemma laughs again. “C’mon Grant, you’re the American.”

“Yeah but …” he gives her the embarrassed look he gets when he doesn’t understand a common reference. A shitty childhood combined with Garrett’s mind games didn’t leave a lot of opportunities for normal experiences.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I didn’t mean … well you see, there’s this cartoon and … it’s just, nevermind.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says quietly, surveying the other trees.

“It’s quite beautiful here. Though I can’t imagine being here all alone … for years …” She’s giving him an opportunity to open up and he’s not sure he wants to take it. He takes a deep breath.

“I didn’t really notice how beautiful it was until I saw you here,” he admits, trying to turn the serious moment into one of flirtation. But the look on Jemma’s face makes him want to say more. “I was usually more focused on surviving: getting enough to eat, staying warm if it was cold, staying cool if it was warm. Though there is one place that always took my breath away.”

“Oh?” Jemma asks.

“Can I take you there?”

“Of course,” she replies softly.

Along the way to the spot on the hill that overlooks the river, he tells her more about his time spent in the wilderness. About his only friend, Buddy the dog. He doesn’t have many clever stories to tell, mostly talking about how he spent his time and the sense of accomplishment he felt whenever he learned something new or sometimes, merely survived the day.

Garrett taught him to rely on himself, and Grant was encouraged not to let anyone in. Lucky for him, Jemma didn’t let him push her away so easily. She burrowed her way into his heart little by little, until he was able to choose her over Garrett. It was an easy choice, despite being horribly difficult to live through. But he had Jemma, and that made all the difference.

“Wow,” Jemma says, once they make it to the top of the hill.

He wraps his arm around her. “This was my favorite spot.”

“It _is_ breathtaking,” she says, beaming at him, then something catches her eye. “Oh, Grant, look!” She points to the most pathetic looking pine tree he’s ever seen. It’s barely kept half of its needles and he thinks if he goes to touch it, the rest will fall off. But he knows instantly that it’s the one Jemma wants.

“ _That_ one?” he asks. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s so cute. Grant, please,” she begs.

“Oh fine,” he grumbles. “Whatever my fiancée wants, she gets.” They share a goofy smile at the word again.

He takes his hatchet and walks over to the four-foot tree, thinking it will at least be easy to carry back to the cabin. But when he goes to take his first swing at the trunk, Jemma delivers her own surprise: a snowball that hits him right in the face. She shrieks with laughter as he wipes the ice off his face. He gives her an ominous look as he drops his hatchet.

“You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?” he asks, reaching down to get his hands in the snow.

“I know I’m about to pay for it, but it was worth it!” she calls as she runs to hide behind a healthy conifer.

He follows after her and before he can get his revenge, she makes a direct hit to his nose. But he recovers quickly, nailing her with a much bigger ball of snow. Then he tackles her to the ground, as gently as one can, and assaults her with kisses.

“Mercy!” she cries through her laughter. “I forfeit. You win!”

“And what do I win exactly?” he asks, delicately wiping the snow off her face.

“Hmm, let me think about it,” she says flirtatiously before pulling his chin down to give him a wet kiss. She shivers in his arms.

“Oh shit,” he says, drawing back. “You’re soaked. We better get back before you freeze.” She looks at him disappointedly but lets him pull her up off the ground, where she had unknowingly made a snow angel.

“The tree, Grant,” she reminds him.

“Oh, right,” he says, leading her by the hand back to the overlook spot. He gets his hatchet off the ground and makes quick work of chopping down her chosen Christmas tree. She smiles at him even as she hops from foot to foot, trying to stay warm. He throws the tree over his shoulder, despite her offers to help him carry it, and they trek back to the cabin.

When the tree is set up next to the fireplace, covered with every decoration he brought, they kneel on the carpet and stare at it for a while.

“It’s perfect,” he says, wrapping his arms around her.

“I knew it would be,” she gloats, always the genius in the room.

“What do you want to do now? Drink some hot cocoa?” he asks. “Or wine?”

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve,” she says, “would you like to open one of your presents?”

“Is that allowed?” he asks skeptically.

“In my family,” she says. “Just one though.”

“I have a feeling you’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” she laughs.

She gets up to dig through her bag of presents and enthusiastically hands him an expertly wrapped gift. It’s a small, rectangular box. He unties the gold bow and rips the shiny, red paper. He looks at Jemma before opening the top; she’s more than excited to watch him open it – the word “giddy” comes to mind.

But when he sees what’s inside, he can only express his confusion. “A … blindfold?” he asks, running his fingers over the black satin fabric.

“Don’t worry, there’s more,” she says, licking her lips.

“What are you planning?”

“You’ll see.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some serious writer's block trying to get this finished, but managed in the nick of time. Merry Christmas!

Jemma pulls Grant over to the bed and pushes his shoulders down so he’s sitting on the edge. She takes the blindfold from him and fastens it over his eyes. 

“No peeking,” she whispers in his ear.

She turns on some Christmas music from her phone and increases the volume to as high as it can go. At least, he assumes it’s Christmas music. He’s never heard the song before but the woman’s voice is teasing every time she sings “Santa baby.” He hears Jemma rustling around in her bag and hopes this is going somewhere very naughty _and_ nice.

When he’s just about ready to slip the blindfold, the music stops. Then he feels Jemma’s hands on his knees, moving slowly up his thighs. She takes both of his hands in hers and moves them gently to her hips. His fingertips graze over silk and lace.

She kisses him softly and when he goes to pull her closer, she backs away. The blindfold is killing him, or maybe it’s the anticipation. She lets his hands roam her body and he tries to piece together what he’s feeling, but the fur on her hips is throwing him off. When she finally removes the blindfold, his jaw about drops to the floor.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

Jemma is standing before him in what can only be described as a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit. He scans her from head to toe, then back up again. She’s wearing stiletto heels – shoes he didn’t even think she owned – and that alone makes him feel ready to go, but she’s also wearing black thigh-high stockings that are attached to red garters and he feels himself panting at the sight.

Still, none of that compares to the red negligee that somehow covers and yet extenuates all his favorite parts of her body (besides her brain, of course). There’s white, faux fur trim over her hips and along her cleavage that evokes a Santa suit but other than that, he could insist she wear this all year long. His brain explodes at the concept that Jemma wearing clothes could be just as much of a turn on as when she’s naked.

“Do you mind if I sit on your lap?” she asks him coyly. He looks at her mouth as she’s speaking to see bright red coating her full lips.

All he can do is nod in response and she surprises him by straddling him instead of merely sitting. That’s fine by him because it gives him a chance to inspect the lingerie more closely. His hands run up and down her sides, over her hips and along her thighs. He plays with the garters, surely grinning like a little boy who got his new favorite toy for Christmas.

“Do you like your present?” she whispers in his ear.

He nods again rapidly and she giggles into his neck, before covering it with kisses. He hopes she’s planning to leave the lingerie on for what he expects is next. This is his present after all, and Jemma knows what he likes.

She tugs on the hem of his shirt and he lifts it off. Her hands trace the contours of his muscles as she kisses him all over, leaving faint red marks from her lipstick. He doesn’t mind when she worships his physique like this – after all, he works hard to maintain it. After using her tongue to trace his six pack, she unbuckles his belt and runs her hand down the seam of his jeans. He hopes she isn’t checking to see if he’s hard because _of course he fucking was_ before she even took off the blindfold. The smile on her face when it’s confirmed makes him want to offer some reassurance.

“You look so sexy, baby,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t even tell you how much I love this, I’m fucking speechless.”

She blushes at his crude compliment and leans in to kiss him passionately. All too soon she pulls away and gets off his lap to stand so she can help him out of the rest of his clothes. He sits on the edge of the bed, naked, patiently waiting for her next move. This is her show, after all.

She pushes his legs further apart and gets down on her knees between them. He whimpers in anticipation – _yes, his fiancée knows exactly what he likes_. She takes his cock into her left hand, and he groans at seeing the diamond ring engaged in such a filthy activity. She looks up at him innocently before sliding her tongue slowly from the tip to his balls and back. “Fuck,” he moans out.

When she finally puts him in her mouth – taking him almost all at once in one careful movement – his eyes practically roll to the back of his head. He looks down as her head bobs back and forth, watching as his cock goes past her bright red lips and comes back out. Over and over. It’s pornographic, and he wants to sear it into his memory for the next time he is lonely on an undercover op.

He should be embarrassed when he starts to feel his release in almost record time, but he knows Jemma will be pleased from the result. He warns her he’s about to come and she braces herself to take it down her throat. He considers asking to paint her sexy red outfit with his cum, but he doesn’t want to risk ruining it. Perhaps this could become a Christmas tradition.

That thought, combined with everything else, pushes him over the edge and he gently lays his palm on the top of Jemma’s head as he cums into her mouth. She closes her eyes, which are wet from the strain of working him over. Her dark eye makeup is starting to smear but her red lipstick is miraculously in place. She looks fucking gorgeous with her mouth around his cock, drinking him down.

Her left hand is still wrapped firmly around the base and her engagement ring is reflecting the lights off the Christmas tree. Or maybe it’s his imagination. Either way, he’s feeling extremely lucky in this moment that he put a ring on it.

She eases him out of her mouth slowly and he wipes around her lips with his thumb. “I think you topped it, baby,” he says. She rolls her eyes even as she beams at him. He helps her up on her feet and holds her close, his head resting in her cleavage.

“Happy Christmas, Grant,” she says as she strokes his hair. Then she kicks off her heels and she’s instantly three inches shorter.

“Jemma,” he says mischievously, sitting back to ogle her in again with his hands on her hips. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

She blushes. “What do you mean?”

He runs his hand lightly along her thigh and strokes the wet heat between her legs. Her hips reflexively push into him. “Well it’s your turn, of course,” he says. “And I want you to keep the heels on.”

She eyes him flirtatiously as she reaches down to put the heels back on her feet. When she stands up straight again, she puts her hands on her hips. “So? How do you want me?” she teases.

He surprises her by bolting out of the bed and turning her around so she’s on the edge of the mattress instead of him. Her eyes go wide and she laughs loudly.

He runs his hands along her torso. “Now, the trick will be keeping this sexy outfit intact,” he says.

“You always did like a challenge.”

“Lay back,” he commands.

She pulls herself up the bed and rests her head on the pillows. She opens her legs wide for him, her knees bent, with her stilettos resting on the bed. Even though she’s not bare, he can see everything through the sheer fabric. Half jokingly, he bites his fist at the sight and she giggles. He pauses to take another mental picture of her splayed out just for him.

He crawls across the bed until he’s on top of her and kisses her lips while his hands explore her body. She moans as his fingers tease her clit through the lace and he knows then that he will be able to meet the challenge of satisfying her even while she’s fully clothed. His lips make a trail to her neck and she gasps when his teeth join his tongue in assaulting her sensitive skin. He slips his fingers along and under the seams of her lingerie to get better access to her pussy, and her light gasps turn into moans.

He kisses his way down her chest to the place he knows will really get her going. The fur lining of the negligee stops his plans in its tracks. She opens her eyes when he pauses and he meets her gaze. He wants access to her breasts before he starts to really fuck her with his fingers, but the bodice is more of a barrier than he expected. He’s not sure how to get his mouth on her nipples in the way that usually thrills her.

“Oh bollocks,” she huffs. She puts her hands on the lining and tugs the lacey cups down so her perfect tits bounce out. “Just do it already, Grant.” She lays back in frustration and he smirks at her wanton expression.

“I love you,” he says in awe. Then he gets right back to it.

His tongue glides along her hard buds as his fingers dive in between her folds. She bucks her hips into his hand and he steadies her so he can find a way to give her clit the attention it deserves. The result is his favorite sound in the world – Jemma moaning his name in pure pleasure as he works her up in a steady build toward release.

He could keep this going all night, but his mind is already mapping a plan for what’s next. He can feel his desire rushing back to his groin. His cock will be as ready as his tongue again soon, and both are more than willing to have a turn between his fiancee’s thighs. She’s ready to come apart and he presses all her buttons until she’s crying out his name and it’s echoing through the cabin.

He falls onto his side when she goes silent, his hands still running up and down her body. She’s shivering now and he pulls a blanket over them, but she reaches out to him and pulls him closer until she’s clutching him tightly enough to steal his body heat. He doesn’t mind at all.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, kissing her forehead. 

“Can I take off the heels now?” she asks, and they laugh together.

“Well, once you’re warmed up, I want you to take off _everything_ ,” he says suggestively.

“What are _you_ planning?”

“You’ll see.”


End file.
